


challenge: knowing that i love you

by aalphard



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Attempt at Humor, Canon compliant-ish, Drunken Confessions, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aalphard/pseuds/aalphard
Summary: His point is that he kind of understands now, deeply and suddenly, why those challenges are called challenges, why those people get all scared and embarrassed by the thought of kissing their best friends. He understands the sudden impulse to take part in it, the sudden desire to taste them and have them cup your face in their hands oh, so tenderly. It might not just be a drunken thought, he realizes when he sees him walking back, when he sees the way his eyes seem just a tad bit darker, the way he seems relaxed in a way Atsumu doesn’t think he was ever allowed to see before tonight and all of a sudden, heunderstands.or: atsumu finds himself wondering if kiyoomi's lips are as soft as they seem.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 281





	challenge: knowing that i love you

It starts, just like every other unfortunate thing in his life, with his brother and Sunarin.

It starts with a new app being downloaded and the knowing glances they share when they think Atsumu isn’t looking. It starts with a new account under a pseudonym because  _ can’t have your fans thinking you’ve got a TikTok account, can we? _ It starts with Atsumu widening his eyes and frowning at the same time because  _ thinking I have a  _ what _ account, now? _

It starts with a soft, cliché song Atsumu is sure he’s heard at least fifty times when going grocery shopping, and then the pictures show up.  _ This is my best friend, _ it usually says,  _ and we’ve known each other for five years. He doesn’t know I like him, but today I’m going to try to kiss him _ , and it cuts to an attempt of confessing through a soft, chaste and sweet kiss that sometimes ends up with both of them laughing, hugging and leaning in for more. Sometimes it ends with heartbreak, with someone being pushed away as shock fills their faces, as they look down in embarrassment and those are always the worst.

_ That’s the  _ kiss your best friend  _ challenge, _ Rin tells him with that silly grin of his while Osamu sends him  _ The Look, _ the one Atsumu has known for most of his life, the one that usually meant  _ this is a threat _ . When he doesn’t reply, both of them sigh in frustration before Rintarou tells him that  _ we thought you’d enjoy it, _ that  _ we thought it could maybe light up something inside you, _ that  _ oh, come on, how oblivious can someone be? _ Atsumu’s eyes remain glued to the screen where a rejection is taking place. It’s heartbreaking, the way all the light seems to fade from someone’s eyes as they’re pushed away, as they realize their love won’t be returned. Atsumu has been through his fair share of unrequited love, he knows the feeling, and somehow he can’t seem to bring himself to look away.

_ This is just sad, _ he tells them.  _ Why make a challenge out of something that could possibly hurt someone this bad? _ He keeps watching them anyway. The thrill of seeing the snippets of their lives, of a hidden feeling suddenly being brought to life and displayed for the entire world to see made something grow impossibly big inside his own chest, crushing his lungs and threatening to squeeze his heart dry.  _ Maybe this is a sign, _ Osamu tells him before going back to work and dragging Rintarou with him,  _ maybe you should start paying attention to your surroundings. _

That’s how it starts.

At first, Atsumu doesn’t really understand why they’re called  _ challenges. _

Sure, he gets the fear of rejection that comes with confessing, but the challenge isn’t  _ confessing _ , is it? Kissing your friend, your  _ best _ friend doesn’t look like a challenge to him. Hell, he’s done that before. It’s nice and warm and comfortable precisely because you trust them and they trust you back. Or, well, sometimes you just  _ really _ want to kiss someone and they just happen to be there, also  _ really _ wanting to kiss someone. Sometimes you just want the warmth of someone’s lips over yours and they’re happy to provide.

In any case, Atsumu has been watching too many of these videos just because they make a pleasant tingle climb up his spine when it works out well, when they hug and laugh and everything just seems a little bit brighter to them. It’s nice, this whole  _ cheering-for-someone-even-when-you-don’t-know-them _ thing. Atsumu would be lying if he said he didn’t tear up while watching some of them. He’s emotional, okay, you can’t blame him for having feelings.

He also doesn’t tell anyone about this guilty pleasure of his, the late nights spent cheering for couples he’s never met before, the shrieks and yelps when they kiss and  _ oh, they’re really going at it now! _ He doesn’t tell anyone about his secret account or the hundreds of  _ kiss your best friend challenge _ he has secretly stored away in his  _ likes _ section. Sometimes he wonders what the team would say if they knew he spends his nights curled up in a cocoon of blankets, holding his phone close to his face while watching these kinds of videos when he should have been asleep. Well. It’s all good if they never know, right?

  
  
They have pizza nights on Fridays, it’s a team bonding thing. Or something like that.

It’s nice to sit back on someone’s couch and listen to the frantic yells of  _ I will  _ fight  _ you for this last slice, be ready to lose an arm! _ It’s funny to listen to their laughter and silly jokes, to see them getting wasted and yelling at the top of their lungs about something they can’t really understand when the words are too heavy on their tongues, when the syllables come out slurred and choked out. It’s even funnier when they have to be dragged home while  _ still _ yelling about the last slice of pizza or how many shots they could still have. What’s definitely  _ not _ funny is the aftermath.

There are three empty pizza boxes piled up on the coffee table and another two resting on the floor while the beer bottles are safely tucked away where drunk hands couldn’t reach. The cushions are all over the floor, forgotten jackets piled up next to the couch and someone’s phone buzzing with new texts. There are crumbs on the floor and a forgotten, half-empty Pocky packet resting over the counter along with the snacks they never got around to trying out, their stomachs too full and their heads too hazy from the alcohol flooding their veins.

It usually goes like this: they have individual training and warmups in the morning and practice in the afternoon. When they’re done, there’s washing up and the reminder that  _ ah! It’s Friday! _ because Fridays mean lazing around in someone’s living room while eating cheap pizza and drinking beer, singing old songs and telling embarrassing stories no one will remember the next day. They come, they eat, they drink, they talk, they go. Atsumu thinks it’s funny, the little remnants of the team that just left through his front door. Hinata’s jacket and Meian’s car keys. Bokuto’s phone and the little charm Inunaki always carries around. There’s a forgotten #9 jersey on his couch and the silver watch that just screams  _ Barnes _ . It’s funny, how messy and yet how comfortable it feels.

What is also funny, Atsumu can’t help but point out, is the fact that Sakusa Kiyoomi,  _ the _ Sakusa Kiyoomi, is now kneeling on the floor as he gathers the bottles and the pizza boxes, wiping away the crumbs that somehow find their way onto his jeans. When he gets up, his eyes linger over Atsumu for a second too long and he’s sure he’s seen the tiniest trace of a smile, open and honest, playing with the edges of his lips. It was only for a second, but Atsumu can’t help but think, then and there, that  _ wow. _ He can’t help but think, even for half a second, that he suddenly wants to kiss him, that he suddenly wants to know how soft his lips are, if he’ll taste like pepperoni and beer or if he has a taste of his own.

They’re not exactly friends, Atsumu wouldn’t go as far as saying they are, but they work well together, Atsumu’s tosses and Kiyoomi’s spikes; their bickering and rivalry that makes sparks fly when they’re on court, the flames boiling the blood in their veins when they score a point and celebrate with the smirks they’ve grown so used to. Or maybe they  _ are _ friends, maybe their friendship is just really unconventional, or maybe Atsumu is just way too drunk to be trying to figure out what kind of relationship they have.

His point is that he can’t stop thinking about it. 

His point is that he kind of understands now, deeply and suddenly, why those challenges are called challenges, why those people get all scared and embarrassed by the thought of kissing their best friends. He understands the sudden impulse to take part in it, the sudden desire to taste them and have them cup your face in their hands oh, so tenderly. It might not just be a drunken thought, he realizes when he sees him walking back, when he sees the way his eyes seem just a tad bit darker, the way he seems relaxed in a way Atsumu doesn’t think he was ever allowed to see before tonight and all of a sudden, he  _ understands _ . He understands and  _ ah, _ he’s not sure if he’s willing to take the risk, if he’ll ever be ready to jump over the cliff and into his arms, if Kiyoomi would even be willing to catch him when he fell.

Because he’s pretty sure he fell in love at some point.

He’s pretty sure he’s fallen for the most insufferable person he knows. He’s sure he’s fallen for the moles on his forehead and the way he sounds cranky in the morning before he has his first cup of coffee. He’s fallen for the amusement in his voice when Atsumu ends up missing a serve but also for the caring words when he’s on the verge of a breakdown. He’s fallen for the snarky comments and the competitions over the stupidest things because that is  _ real _ and that is  _ them _ and there’s no one else who would indulge him and take care of him like Kiyoomi does. It’s not conventional, of course, but it works.

Because he didn’t know before, but he knows now.

Because it’s easy to figure out when they’re alone and Atsumu realizes that he’s the only person allowed to see  _ this _ side of him, open and carefree, a sweet smile on his face as he gathers the forgotten objects with a snort and a shake of his head. It’s easy to figure out when he hums as he walks around, when he looks at the family portraits Atsumu has on his walls with a soft, relaxed expression.  _ I want to see him like this every single day, _ is the first thought that materializes in his mind.  _ I wouldn’t mind waking up to this every single day, _ is the second thing that pops up and suddenly Atsumu finds it a little bit harder to breathe because oh.  _ Oh. _

“Hey, Omi-kun?”

He hates knowing this, hates not knowing what to do with the feelings that suddenly take over his body, the small gasp that escapes his lips when Kiyoomi turns around, Hinata’s jacket hanging from his arms and Meian’s car keys safely tucked into his closed fist. It’s suffocating, the sudden realization that you’re in love, he thinks. It was never like this before, scary but inviting, the open arms of a beast that won’t hesitate to devour you whole. Atsumu knows himself, he knows he won’t be able to hide it for very long, he knows he’ll burst eventually, the words he’d been meaning to hide dripping from his lips like the soft rain that starts hitting his windows as soon as Kiyoomi looks at him.

He needs to think.

He needs to do something.

He wants to kiss him.

“C’mere,” he says, simply, hands waving in front of him as if trying to urge him to move faster. “C’mere, c’mere.”

Kiyoomi frowns, a snort escaping his throat as he tilts his head and whispers a soft, “Why?”

_ Why, indeed. _

Atsumu wonders what he would say if he told him about the challenges, if he told him he’s spent countless nights staring at his phone, cheering for people he doesn’t even know. He wonders what Kiyoomi would say if he told him that, sometimes, he dreams about those challenges, he dreams about  _ him _ and the kisses they’d share while the camera records their every reaction. He wonders if Kiyoomi would laugh or if he would simply frown, shake his head and whisper  _ ridiculous _ as he usually does when Atsumu says something silly. He wonders if Kiyoomi even  _ knows _ about these challenges, if he’s ever watched them, if he’s ever thought about kissing him as much as Atsumu does. He wonders and wonders and wonders and suddenly the room is spinning because Kiyoomi is walking towards him, the jacket and the keys forgotten over the coffee table and  _ ah, _ now he’s standing in front of him with arched eyebrows and wide eyes and his eyes are just  _ so pretty _ and Atsumu might be a little drunk but  _ ah. _

Without really knowing why, he takes one step forward.

Surprisingly, Kiyoomi doesn’t take a step back.

“What are you doing?”

It’s warm and inviting, the way his voice echoes around the room and forces Atsumu’s heart to follow its rhythm, a beat he’s not used to just yet. It’s slow and steady but also overwhelmingly loud and for a second or maybe an hour or two Atsumu can’t ever hear his own thoughts.  _ It’s now or never, _ he thinks,  _ it’s now or never. Come on, come on, come  _ on.  _ Do it, do it, do it! _

He takes another step forward, the infinity between them stretching into oblivion as Kiyoomi looks down, his lips oh, so close to Atsumu’s nose he can feel his breath over his skin. The air between them mingles, a shiver running up and down his spine in an endless cycle. It feels unbearably hot all of a sudden and Kiyoomi just makes it all worse by licking his lips before asking, once again, “What are you doing?”

Atsumu doesn’t have an answer.

He looks up at his lips for a split second before it hits him, those twenty seconds of insane, furious courage, the embarrassing bravery that grabs him by the neck and pulls, pulls, pulls and suddenly he’s wrapping his arms around Kiyoomi’s neck and bringing him as close as he can get him, fingers intertwining with his curls as their lips finally,  _ finally, _ touch.  _ Ah, ah, ah, _ they’re even softer than they look, Atsumu finds out. Sakusa Kiyoomi, opposite hitter for the MSBY Black Jackals, all muscles and hard angles has the softest lips Atsumu has ever had the pleasure to touch and he finds out he can’t get enough of it.

There’s a sharp intake of air before Kiyoomi grabs him by the back of his neck, burying his hands in his hair, before he drags his tongue over Atsumu’s bottom lip and he  _ whines, _ knees buckling and body melting against him because  _ yes, yes, yes. _ He tightens his grip on Kiyoomi’s hair as soon as he opens his mouth, ready for him to make him a mess, ready for him to take and take and take and do whatever else he wants to do. He tastes a little sweet and a little salty and Atsumu finds out he never wants to taste anything else. At this point, Atsumu is nothing more than a puppet under Kiyoomi’s ministrations and he couldn’t care less.

Kiyoomi holds him tight, his nails digging into his scalp, his arms strong and safe around him and Atsumu can’t help but whine again when he deepens the kiss, when he inhales deeply and groans as soon as Atsumu tugs at his hair in a desperate attempt to keep himself from falling to the floor. As if he understands it, Kiyoomi slides one of his arms down, wrapping it around his waist instead, their chests glued together and  _ ah, _ Atsumu can feel his pulse throbbing against his palm, fast and desperate and  _ ha, _ he almost wants to laugh, a silly grin parting his lips against his will, the kiss ending way too soon for his liking.

And then it hits him like a truck.

Oh, fuck. 

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

He doesn’t even have time to think of an excuse before Kiyoomi takes one step back, lips red and puffy, a smug smirk seemingly permanently etched onto his skin like a tattoo as he inhales deeply one, two, three times, before a soft chuckle comes out. Atsumu feels his face burning when he reaches forward, slowly, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, his touch lingering for a few seconds too long over his cheek, a swift brush of his thumb right under his mouth. He’s dizzy, the entire world becoming nothing more than a blur, his thoughts jumping all over the place, ranging from  _ oh, my god, he just kissed me, what the fuck,  _ to  _ oh, my god, he just kissed me  _ followed by a thousand exclamation marks. He doesn’t know  _ how _ to look at him, all of a sudden, the salt at the back of his tongue suddenly yelling  _ Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi _ and bringing all the blood in his body to his cheeks.

“You know,” he whispers softly, one of his hands reaching up to cup Atsumu’s cheeks, his thumb softly caressing his skin, “I was waiting for you to do that. I wondered what was taking you so long or even if I was just making a fool out of myself for thinking too hard.”

Atsumu gasps, his entire body going up in flames when Kiyoomi nuzzles him, his nose right next to his ear, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of his neck, “You  _ what?” _

When he laughs, Atsumu almost faints.

His eyes are bright and inviting, his smile, his  _ genuine _ smile, the one thing in the world Atsumu never knew he needed, the one thing in the world he now knows he won’t ever be able to live without. His hand is against his cheek, against his neck, against his jaw, his thumb now awfully close to the corner of his mouth, and Atsumu can’t help but part his lips in a silent request.  _ Kiss me, _ he silently begs,  _ again and again and again until I can’t breathe, until I’m nothing but a mess of gasps and whimpers and soft whispers against your skin. _ Kiyoomi doesn’t kiss him, not this time, but  _ agonizingly  _ slowly traces Atsumu’s lips and his cupid’s bow as if he’s trying to memorize his features, as if he’s never wanted anything else in the way he wants  _ him. _ The thought alone is enough to make tears start to gather in his eyes, his lashes suddenly wet and sticking together in a futile attempt of not letting them fall down.

“Your brother sometimes texts me,” Kiyoomi tells him as he wipes away the stubborn tears streaming down his cheeks. “It was a surprise the first time it happened. I considered ignoring him, but then I thought something had happened to you and I found out I couldn’t. He told me about these challenges, about how he, and I quote,  _ everyone else, ya scrub _ , was tired of seeing this pitiful tiptoe dance we were doing around each other and it just clicked. He told me he’d sent you lots of these videos, that you were definitely bound to get an idea and act on it, but that was months ago. I thought maybe I was the only one tiptoeing around it, that maybe you weren’t interested as your brother said you were, that maybe…”

Atsumu snorts, “Omi, yer accent was terrible.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, wrapping one of his arms around Atsumu’s shoulders and bringing him close, close, close, until his face is resting on the crook of his neck, and a bitter laugh escapes his throat when he shakes his head, his chin resting on top of Atsumu’s head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Ya love me,” is what Atsumu replies with a hum.

“Mm,” he hums back, “I had this entire plan to confess, to make you finally realize what was going on and then-”

“You  _ what?!” _

He struggles out of Kiyoomi’s embrace, his eyes wide and knees unstable, taking one, two, three steps back, arms stretched out in front of him as a physical barrier between them because  _ what the fuck,  _ he wasn’t ready for this. His heart seems to have stopped for a few seconds, his lungs thrashing around in pure agony as he struggles to breathe because all the oxygen in the world isn’t enough because  _ what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck. _ Kiyoomi is laughing, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted to the side. He bits his bottom lip and slowly takes one, two, three steps forward until Atsumu’s hands are glued to his chest, until he’s able to reach forward and wrap his fingers around his wrists and pull him into a hug again.  _ Ah, _ he thinks,  _ he feels warm, he feels safe. _

“Hey?” Kiyoomi whispers against his ear.

“Mm?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” he says, “Is that alright?”

Atsumu doesn’t answer him.

Instead, he lifts up his head and kisses him again one, two, three thousand times, and feels him smiling against his lips.  _ Yes,  _ he hopes to convey,  _ it’s more than okay, and I hope you know I love you too. _ When Kiyoomi holds his face with both of his hands and slowly slides his tongue against his bottom lip again, a small gasp escapes his lips because  _ ah.  _ When he grabs him by the neck and turns him into a mess under his touch, Atsumu can’t help but think that maybe this is what was supposed to happen all along.

Maybe, he thinks, some challenges aren’t so bad, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> [this](https://twitter.com/aaIphard/status/1362129346111143940) is the reason why this was written so you can go blame all of the people who fueled me! i take no responsibility!
> 
> you're free to come yell at/with me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/aaIphard) (´꒳`)


End file.
